


The ABC’s of Destiel

by CastielsCarma



Series: Destiel ABC [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder Husbands, Muse Dean, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seduction, Tear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Different Destiel one shots





	1. Ardent

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while on a road trip. I think this will be part of a series, the ABC’s of Destiel if you will.
> 
> Tags and warnings will change accordingly, and will be posted in the notes of each chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. As always, thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate you! :)
> 
> Chapter 1: In Dean Winchester, Castiel finds someone who is worthy to paint.

“Chin up slightly, you are slouching. It’s a pity to mar such a beautiful posture.”

Castiel’s voice cut through Dean’s musings, making him aware of stiff muscles and tension that had accumulated during the long hours of being still. A light finger under his chin pressed up until Castiel was satisfied. 

“My apologies, master.” Dean couldn’t see the black mess of hair or the sapphire blue of his eyes squinting in disapproval from this angle but he knew it was there anyway. Dean wouldn’t claim to know master Seraph but the last couple of months had taught him who Castiel considered the true master. 

“I’m no master.” The soft whispers of brush against the canvas followed as if that settled the matter. 

Dean’s gaze flickered to the ceiling supported with gilded beams and covered with angels; terrifying beings of beauty with wings in all colors from deep red, the shade of blood to a black so dark it made Dean uncomfortable to see it on an angel of God rather than the demons of the Pit that were usually depicted with grim and ominous colorings.

Dean could hear the scraping of a chair on wooden floors as Castiel rose up and then the soft padding of feet on the carpet. He sighed in relief. The thick carpet lined the floor below the windows and if Castiel was rearranging the huge curtains that meant the lighting had changed. Anything that granted reprieve right now was welcome. 

Rolling his shoulders while he flexed his toes was as much movement as Dean allowed himself. The warm rays of the sun rearranged themselves on Dean’s naked body and he sighed. A hollow feeling was growing in his stomach but he pressed it down. Master Castiel paid him well and he could postpone his needs a while longer. He smiled inwardly as another unbidden thought invaded his consciousness. The ability to delay the wants of the body was the advantage of the young, a tighter reign on impulses. The old allowed for every whim to be brought out in the light. Not that Castiel was old, but he was older.

“What is it you find so amusing, Dean?” Castiel’s voice was laced with curiosity rather than annoyance. 

“Nothing, master. Distracting thoughts that flicker. It helps me when posing.”

“All of you is a distraction,” Castiel said softly, warmth in his voice. 

There was silence in the room, a pause where the only sounds were Dean’s heartbeats, the muted noises of people conducting errands on the streets below and the soft clank as Castiel discarded his tools.

Dean could feel Castiel’s presence in how the sunlight became overshadowed on his body, the sudden heat that flushed deep within and how the very air seemed to thicken, carrying something still unnamed between them like a physical thing that needed acknowledgment.

A soft thumb stroked Dean’s chin. Unbidden, Dean closed his eyes.

“I see the innate beauty of the world, Dean, in things made of cold stone and warm flesh. My only desire is to take that beauty and reveal it to the world, so others can revel in its glory.” Castiel’s thumb traveled further down, parting his lips.

Dean flashed his eyes open, trying to calm his breathing. His chest rose up and down as if needing to be in rhythm with a heart that was rapidly increasing its hammering, like a thunderstorm reaching its crescendo.

Castiel looked down at Dean reverently, an intensity burning off him. The blue of his eyes was sharp like a knife, cutting into places Dean was not aware could hold anything, let alone the piercing gaze of this man before him.

“What do you see when you look at me... master?” Dean spoke. His lips pressed against Castiel’s finger, the only part he dared to move. Any other motion would break this fragile connection of ethereal kinship between them.

“I see beauty in you. A fierce, boundless energy.” He pressed his thumb slightly against Dean’s lips before meandering down to his throat. “I must confess though...”

Castiel ran his thumb down the side as his other fingers gently clasped around Dean’s throat.

The pounding in Dean’s ears was louder than the salty waves of the ocean crashing on the shore. And just as salt water didn’t quench any thirst, Dean’s voice was raspy and hoarse, needing to quench this fire and fill the void of Castiel’s words with a question of his own. “What must you confess?” 

“You have turned me into a greedy creature, Dean.” Fingers tightened ever so slightly. “I hesitate to show you to the world in all your naked glory.” 

Dean licked his lips as his cock turned interested, twitching softly at the cadence of Castiel’s words. He cast his eyes down, the intensity of his master’s voice and touch almost too much to bear. “If I have displeased you, master...”

Castiel’s hand eased off and Dean mourned the loss of something profound, a sensation he wasn’t aware he craved before now.

Soft fingers padded across Dean’s cheeks, touching the constellation of freckles. Each stroke made heat rush through Dean, awakening a need that had slumbered deep down and was coaxed awake with gentle caresses. 

A smile curved on Castiel’s lips. “You have far from displeased me. My hesitation stems from a want, a desire to keep you hidden and close, for my eyes only. If I could paint only you until I die, I would embrace death as a satisfied man when that time came.”

A hand carded through Dean’s hair, fingers pulling gently as another hand touched his chest. Castiel leaned in close to Dean, his mouth near his ear, but this was not the artistic, impassive closeness of a hand adjusting a posture or wiping away sweat from muscles but a proximity born from the promise of pleasure. “I wish to paint you with more than brushes. My lips on your skin to paint you red. My tight grip on your wrists to paint you blue. My come on your back to paint you white.”

Dean exhaled sharply as those words fluttered from his ear, down across his skin, spreading out and blooming deep down in his gut. The sun was a mere flame compared to the fires Castiel’s words evoked in him. He bowed his head, uncertainty slowly seeping in.

“I can see the idea of this brings you pleasure. Yet you hesitate. Why is that?”

“I’m just — “ Sudden shame erupted inside Dean, coloring his cheeks red. “I’m nothing compared to you. You are so gifted and kind and I’m merely a — “

Dean’s soft protests were interrupted as Castiel cupped his cheeks in his hands. “You are the true light in this world. You raised me from perdition and allowed me to attain mastery of my craft when I despaired. Your soft lips invite exploration. The brilliant green of your eyes — when they sparkle as you still look at the world in wonder — entices my heart.”

“I’m sure that’s not always wonder on my mind but — “

Castiel sighed. “Dean, you are beautiful. You are the one human that stir my urge to create, that fills my heart with passion. My sweet, wonderful muse. I wish you could see my words for the spoken truth that it is.”

The praise uttered made Dean avert his eyes again. Surely Castiel was talking in jest Dean thought, but he also knew that his master’s demand of honesty from those around him was above all most harshly imposed on himself.

“Thank you, master.” It was a small uttering, the words causing Dean to blush further. He didn’t feel worthy of the praise but he soaked it up like a parched man finally finding a river, nonetheless.

“You can call me, Castiel.” There was a pause as if there was more on his mind. 

Dean found himself eager to peel away all the layers that were this man and to know him fully and completely. “Castiel.” It was more than a whisper, closer to a prayer from a man that had lost faith a long time ago. 

Another swipe of a thumb over his lips caused Dean’s breath to hitch. Small crinkles appeared around Castiel’s eyes, causing an already breathtaking face to turn into something extraordinary. It was Castiel’s face that should be worshipped as the greatest of art, not Dean’s.

Castiel’s lips on his own was a current surging through his body, and each touch on his shoulders and his arms rooted him to the ground. The pleasure inside his gut, forcing its way to his cock, on the other hand, threatened to whisk him away to soaring heights of desire and pleasure.

“I want to worship you, Dean. Your body is a masterpiece on its own, commanding more appreciation and reverence than any painting I create. My creations pale in comparison to you.”

Kisses — harsh and demanding on his skin as Dean arched his neck in submission — forced a breathy moan from him in panted exhales.

“Please.” The word was an invocation, laced with every longing Dean had for touch, comfort, and love.

Castiel smiled and kissed him once more on the lips, painting them pink with pure abandon. He took Dean’s hand in his own, tugging gently towards the bedroom. “Follow me, sweet angel. Your wish and more will be requited.”


	2. Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes home after a shopping trip only to find small clues of something being off. Ever the vigilant, he goes through the house only to find Cas at his usual place, writing. But Dean knows Cas and he knows Cas is hiding something. Pretty soon Dean's anger at a hidden secret turns into gratefulness for the fun it offers.
> 
> This story has disturbing elements. Read NOTES if you want to be spoiled before continuing!

The sneakers at the front door were not his, nor Cas'. Scowling, Dean closed the door with a shoulder, toed off his shoes and called out as he carried the groceries to the kitchen. “Cas?”

When he was done stowing away the perishables in the fridge and freezer there was still no sign of Cas. Dean opened a drawer and grabbed a knife, taking comfort in the weight of the handle, the sharpness of the blade.

On silent feet, he rounded the corner and entered the living room. A quick survey found nothing out of place. Dean muttered a curse under his breath. “I swear to God, Cas if you don't show right this minute.” 

Nothing but silence greeted him. Dean walked over to the coffee table and slid a hand underneath. He grinned when he felt cold metal. Hiding the knife in a strap, he grabbed the weapon and headed for the bedroom doors. He angled his body so he was obscured although the doors were open. A soft, clickety sound could be heard from inside. Exhaling softly, Dean entered the bedroom, gun raised towards the sound.

Castiel looked up from his laptop, black hair disheveled and a hint of surprise on his face.

Dean did a quick motion with the gun, urging Cas to remove the ridiculously large headphones covering his ears.

“Dean. A bit early for foreplay don't you think?” Castiel glanced at the gun, the barrel aimed straight at his heart. “Put that thing away, you're interrupting my flow.”

Looking around the bedroom everything seemed undisturbed. Dean lowered the gun, suspicion not assuaged in the slightest. Leaning in he kissed Cas on the cheek and inhaled the scent of his husband. Faint traces of soap, that cologne he liked to wear called _Midnight_ and hidden underneath all that, the scent of light rain and air before thunder struck.

“So, how did your writing session go?” Dean took a step back as Cas folded his laptop.

A small smile quirked Cas' lips as he crossed his arms. “Good, good. Inspiration has really assaulted me; I think I'm out of that slump I had.” He scratched his wrist. “Even did a little research.”

Dean turned his back to Castiel, holding up a hand in the air. “Hold that thought, Cas.” After a few moments, Dean was back with two beers in hand. He offered a bottle to Cas who took it. Taking a swipe of the beer, Dean licked his lips. “And how did that research of yours go?”

Castiel sighed as the chill beer hit his throat.“Very good. I feel much more at ease now. You know how much it helps to release some pressure. It's especially gratifying when everything converges and you get to experience that flow and fix a plot hole or two.”

Dean nodded and looked at Cas' wrist again. “Uh-huh, research. Let's chill some before making dinner.”

 

They watched a documentary about gymnasts. “Hey, they're really nimble. I bet they could do tricks even you couldn't pull off, Cas.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and slapped Dean's arm. “I don't hear you complaining when you're fucking me or I blow myself.”

Dean shrugged. “Little nimble wildcats. I bet they'd scratch you good.”

“Maybe,” Castiel laughed. “Although you're the one that has a penchant for scratching.”

“Mm, keep those nails long, Cas.” Dean took another swipe of his beer. “Must have been really sweaty research.”

Castiel smirked. “You figure?”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “You're wearing a new shirt. Didn't wear that one when I headed out.”

“Indeed I am. I felt a sudden urge to shower.” Castiel flashed his teeth.

Usually, Dean was all for playing games, but he'd had a long day at work and his patience was wearing thin.“For fuck's sake, Cas. You promised you'd wait!”

Castiel paused the gymnast documentary as if he was really invested in the program and couldn't bear the thought of missing anything. “Calm down. I just bent the rules, somewhat. No harm done... Hungry?” Castiel's voice was calm and even, but humor made the blue of his eyes sparkle.

“Hungry... Yeah, I bet you satiated your hunger alright. Nevermind your husband and his needs.”

Castiel threaded his fingers at the back of Dean's hair and pulled him close for a kiss. “Don't sulk. I saved the best parts for you. It was just a morsel.”

Dean closed his eyes as Cas pulled harder on his hair. “I'm not fucking sulking,” he breathed. “I bought you that kombucha crap you like.”

Castiel laughed. “A healthy gut is important.” He planted a kiss on Dean's lips.

“Yeah, that's what I heard”, Dean mumbled against Cas' chafed lips. “Now let's eat. I'm starving.”

 

Dean looked at the man with his short sandy hair, deep green eyes and thick lashes, sitting naked on a chair in the basement. A naked light bulb illuminated the spartan space. The black gag muted the man's screams to terrified mumbles and wide, soft leather restraints encircled his wrists and ankles. The momentary relief that shone in his eyes quickly faded away when his gaze settled on Castiel. “You do realize he's a fucking carbon copy of younger me, Cas? I don't know if I should be flattered or creeped out.”

Castiel walked up to the man and touched his hair with an air of intimate familiarity. “Maybe a bit of both? His name is Bob. At least that's what his driver's license says.”

Scoffing, Dean inched closer to the man until he was a towering presence above him. “Bob? What kind of name is Bob?” He leaned in close to the man. “Especially on a pretty face like yours... Bob.” Dean grabbed Bob's chin, fingers digging into soft skin and forced him to turn to the side. 

“How about Jake? It has a boyish charm to it. Reminds me of a Hollywood-wannabe. We all know those kinds of people always walk around with an air of importance around themselves. But you're not important, are you, Jake? Your place is not above, but below, kneeling at our feet. Isn't that so?”

Bob's eyes were all on Castiel and he shook his head with fervor.

Dean noticed the faint line of red on Jake's stomach. “I see you're bleeding. Who did this to you?” His voice was soothing, meant to calm and reassure.

Bob's eyes went wide with incredulity, his terrified gaze shifting to Castiel momentarily before landing on Dean again.

“Cas you say? Well, it's not really his fault. He is usually a man of great patience, so you must have really put that to the test. Pissed him off. Pro-tip, from one guy to another. Next time, do as you're fucking told.” He patted Bob's cheek. “He was doing research, you see.”

Castiel peered down at Jake. “Jake, that fits you much better.” He kneeled down, so he could be at Bob's eye-level. Placing a hand on the man's chest, he held it there firmly. “Mm, it seems your heart rate is elevated. Usually a sign of some kind of stress. Tell me, are you feeling unusual amounts of stress in your life?” 

Bob's eyes were wild, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin.

Sighing, Dean pulled out his knife and pointed the edge of the blade at Bob's throat. He pressed slowly until he pierced the skin and a small drop of blood escaped. “I think Cas here asked you a question, Jake. So you better answer it.”

Saliva ran around Bob's gag and his eyes glistened with unshed tears until finally they spilled and slowly ran down his cheeks. The sight caused a flash of arousal to work it's way down to Dean's cock, causing him to be almost painfully hard. Fuck, tears always did a number on him. When Dean noticed that Bob wouldn't calm down, snot starting to run from his nose, he slapped Bob's cheek hard. “Jake, calm the fuck down. You are ruining my hardon. Tears are good. Snot is fucking disgusting.”

Dean glanced at Cas. “Gimme your shirt.”

“I'm not giving you my shirt.”

“You owe me for doing this in secret.” Dean looked at the restraints in disgusting. “Aww, fuck. He dribbled snot all over my restraints. That was genuine leather. Why you use my gear when we have other cheaper stuff for this kind of play?” Dean held out his hand. “Shirt. Now, Cas.”

Cas sighed. “You are so dramatic, Dean. It's just a pair of restraints.” He unbuttoned his shirt and divested himself of the garment.

Dean grabbed the shirt and inhaled the scent of Cas. “Mm, smelling good, Cas.” Using the shirt, Dean wiped off the snot from the restraints and the gag before tossing it on the ground. He circled behind Bob and unclasped the gag, pulled it away with a quick jerk of his hand. 

Bob moaned in pain and worked his mouth to try and ease off sore muscles. “Pl- please...” His voice was hoarse from prolonged disuse, fear and having a gagball shoved in there.

Dean reached around Bob's head, clasping a hand over his mouth, covering it harshly. He leaned his chin on Bob's head. “Shh, Jake. No amount of begging will get you out of this, the only thing that'll happen is that I'll get off. And considering your... predicament I doubt that is something of a life goal of yours, no? Shake your head if you understand, Jake?”

Bob shook his head feebly. 

“Atta' boy.”

“Dean is the one that usually begs but only when it comes to me.” Cas smiled as he grabbed the knife Dean had discarded earlier. “Won't need that shirt anyway. Our kind of play usually requires bare skin anyway.”

Letting go of Bob's mouth Dean walked around until he faced him again. Bob's chest was rising up and down rapidly, his eyes shining with a heady mix of fear and tears and his skin was red and blotched at places. Adrenaline with nowhere to go, Dean figured. It was odd to see him like that, all wrecked and breathless, like he'd been wrung through the most earth-shattering orgasm in his life, more so because it was almost like Dean was looking at himself.

“Well, Cas, I'll give you that – “ Dean spoke slowly as he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. As he pulled down the zipper he noticed that Jakeboy stared as if transfixed at Dean's groin. “ – You sure know how to pick them, Jesus fucking Christ. It'll be like fucking myself.” Finally, Dean freed his rock hard cock, giving it a few strokes as he sighed.

“Please, no. I'll give you money. I have a lot. I won't tell anyone I saw your faces, no one will ever know.”

Castiel pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at Bob's chest. “Now, Dean may have a kink for begging, I do too, I'm not gonna lie, but I like the refined, artful kind of begging. You're hardly refined and artful right now.” 

Bob clamped his mouth shut as he noticed the gun in Castiel's hands. His own fingers were gripping the armrests of the chair forcefully, tendons a sharp contrast against sweat-soaked skin.

Castiel made a clicking sound with his tongue, disappointment tinging his voice. “Now, I know that you're scared, Jake but I assure you, if you do as we ask of you this will all be over soon. And when we're done with you, you'll find yourself home, safe and warm where you belong.” He took another step toward Bob, lowering the gun slightly, but still aiming it at Bob's trembling body. “You understand?”

Dean smiled. Cas, the smooth fucker. Always the one to lull them into a semblance of safety with that silver tongue of his. He was right in what he was saying, but the only safe and warm home they both had in mind for Jake was the small hole he knew Cas had been digging while Jake had been tied up down here.

Bob nodded his head and burst into tears, fear making his chest heave as he sobbed. After a few seconds, he tried to regain his composure and cast a fearful look at Dean, as if he'd suddenly recalled Dean's earlier words about snot.

“Shh, you're alright, Jake.” Dean swiped a thumb over a cheek wet with tears before bringing it up to his lips. Slowly he opened his mouth and let the taste of tears envelop his tongue. “Fuck, yeah, that's good. You know what's gonna taste better?”

Bob shook his head. 

“Speak up, Jake. You're not a goddamn puppy... yet.”

Bob opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out except an odd whisper. Clearing his throat again, he tried again. “No...”

When Dean raised an eyebrow, Bob continued. “No... I don't know what...will taste better.”

“Not very bright this one, Cas, “ Dean chuckled as he worked his cock a few more times. Suddenly, he wiped his head around. “Is this some kind of roundabout way of saying – “

Castiel interrupted Dean with a kiss, just below his collarbone. “Of course, not. You're the brightest man I know, after myself. Although, I'm certainly not complaining about your looks either.” He trailed a thumb over Dean's lips. “You're so very... fuckable.”

“Christ, Cas.” Dean arched his body towards Bob. “Open up, Jake. And I swear, if I so much as feel a nibble of teeth against my dick I'll punch them out so fast that they'll travel back through time and space. The motherfucking tooth fairy will be back to collect your milk teeth. Got it?”

“Yes...”

As Bob's mouth hesitantly wrapped around Dean's head, he speared his fingers in Bob's hair, yanking him closer to him. Castiel pressed himself closer to Dean's side, grabbing his face roughly as he claimed Dean's mouth in a kiss that left Dean panting. Either that or Jake was giving really good head, it was hard to tell. 

“Love you, Cas.” Dean murmured and pressed Bob's head closer still until he felt him grab Dean's thighs in panic. Just a few more seconds and Dean eased up, allowing Bob to breathe. “So proud of you, Jake. Let's try that again, but hold your breath a smudge longer, will you?” He shoved his cock back in Bob's throat again.

Dean sighed at the fucking beauty of it all. The warmth of Cas' body next to him, the warmth of Bob's mouth on him. The beauty of Cas' body that would hold him close and the beauty of the earth as it would hold Bob's dead body even closer.

Dean loved bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This chapter contains non-con/rape, violence, and threats with a gun and knife, tearkink and Dean getting a blowjob from someone that isn't Cas.


End file.
